Don't Let It Be So
by ImagineTheTime
Summary: He left her with a broken heart. He left her wondering what she had done wrong. She didn't want it to happen again. But now he had her heart in his hands, and there was nothing that could be done about it. (One-shot)


**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 _This is a Romangers one-shot, with both fluff and angst. And I would like you all to keep in mind that TWS has not taken place in my own little "universe", as you will find out if you keep reading. Thank you all for clicking on this short story, and I hope you all enjoy._

 ** _Disclaimer:_ **_If I really owned the Marvel Cinematic Universe and that characters mentioned in this one-shot, Cap and Widow would have been a couple a very long time ago._

* * *

 **Don't Let It Be So**

 _"_ _Did we?"_

 _Her voice was a soft whisper, barely audible. But – in a sense – it was loud enough for him to hear. He didn't meet her eyes as he crossed the bedroom and reached for his shirt._

 _"_ _The world just saw the Hulk," He murmured. "The real Hulk for the first time. You know I have to leave."_

 _"_ _And you assume I have to stay?"_

The memories were painful and sharp as if someone had run a knife through her heart. She had been hurt many times, countless of times, but this wasn't like that. Before she got hurt as the Black Widow, an assassin that did not know the definition of fear. But at that time, Natalia Romanova was the one who got hurt. She wasn't the empty shell of a woman, one who had no emotions, one who did not know of love.

 _"_ _Love is for children."_

Oh, how she wished that were true right now.

 _"_ _What are you doing?"_

 _His breath tickled her face and her heart did a summersault in her chest. She didn't dare back down, though, but instead, stared boldly into his eyes._

 _"_ _I'm running with it," Was her soft reply. A small smile appeared on her face as she reached out to touch his cheek. "With you."_

If it were even possible, her chest clenched tighter together, and the grip on her pillow tightened. She only realized that she couldn't breathe when she abruptly sat upright, the pillow knocking down the lamp on the nightstand. Her mouth fell open and closed as she struggled to catch a breath but nothing happened. Her hand flew to her chest – to her heart – and as each thump sounded, a stinging ache spread through her body. She told herself to calm down mentally, but that voice was so faint she barely understood it herself. Screwing her eyes shut, she started to rock back and forth carefully, hoping that the agony would subside.

"Nat…" Her mind must have been playing tricks on her as she heard another voice. "Natasha…"

The voice was far from foreign; it was one she had grown accustomed to hearing day in and day out. And suddenly, the pain stopped. It happened so oddly that it was almost as if it weren't there in the first place. It frightened her enough that her eyes shot open. They were frantic at first, searching the room for something – anything – to explain what had just happened.

And then she saw him.

She saw him kneeling in front of her, hand over her own that was still clutch to her tank top, and the other caressing the side of her face. His piercing blue eyes bore into her own with such intensity that it should have caused her to faint right then and there. At least, that's what usually happens in romantic scenes; the girl describes how staring into his eyes took her breath away and vice versa. But it wasn't like that with him. Whatever weight was dragging her heart down, had vanished. Even for her, the one experiencing this very moment first hand, it was hard to describe. That feeling. No, " _feeling_ " was too feeble of a word to describe how her heart no longer ached, how her breath, although ragged, returned, or how she could still make out his figure despite her eyes being lined with tears.

Her attention drew to her shaky hands that were clutching his shirt like a lifeline. She gulped thickly as she opened her mouth to say something – anything – but once again, nothing came out. Although, her tears grew heavier and more difficult to control.

"Natasha…"

Finally, she was able to find her voice. "Are you… are you really here?"

It probably seemed like an absurd question; after all, he was still holding her tightly and she herself returning the gesture. But still, she couldn't help but ask. After what she remembered – that horrific nightmare – she needed to know that he wasn't just a figment of her imagination. She's positive that if it were true, if he weren't really there, that pain in her heart would come back and would not leave.

"I'm here," He told her softly. "I'm right here."

She breathed out a deep sigh of relief. Still, the memories of that unforgotten reality burned into her mind. Soon, she felt his thumb skimming her cheekbone and it caused her to peer at him.

"I should have been here with you."

It was a simple statement but held so much more meaning. To foreign ears, this statement would have been perplexing. But she understood, and so did he, and that was all that really mattered.

She doesn't remember when it happened exactly. All she remembers is how secure she feels wrapped in his arms during the night. It's ironic how they say monsters hide in the dark, and her monsters made sure to bring her misery at the end of the day. It was a subconscious matter, but she had started to fear going to sleep at night, always terrified of what nightmares would plague her mind. She was most vulnerable at this time. The situation had progressed so drastically, that several nights in a row, she had gone without sleep. Instead, the gym would become her bedroom. All of her anger, frustration, grief, pain, and guilt unleased throughout the night. She often left with her hands battered and bruised, aching muscles, hazy eyes, but an alert mind.

And then one day, she stumbled across him during one of her restless nights in the gym. The rest was history. The habit of sleeping together became their unmentioned "thing". Often, they would stay in each other's rooms more than their own. But that's how they preferred it – just them and their unspoken "arrangement".

But he had a mission tonight – with Sam – which explains why she woke up in cold sweat. These things almost never happened with him, and when they did, he'd be right there by her side to comfort him. It went both ways too.

She shook her head, her crimson red hair falling in front of her face. He brushed her locks from her face, far more intimately than a friend should have. And that's what they were – friends, extremely close friends. At least that's what she told herself as he guided her back to bed. She slowly got back under the covers, wrapping herself in the silk sheets. There was an empty silence until the space in the bed next to her dipped, and soon, she felt his hardened chest pressed up against her back. Her body, that had been profoundly tense, immediate relaxed as he wrapped his arm around her waist. His thumb drew tiny circles on her hip bone before slowly dragging past her pajama shorts and onto her thigh. He continued his "finger painting" silently. She didn't think of it twice; it was a normal thing between them. Another sigh escaped her lips as he buried his face into her neck.

"When you're ready," He murmured. "I'm right here."

Closing her eyes, she remembered perfectly what had caused her to become restless. A knot formed in her throat and found it incredibly hard to swallow it down. "Sometimes I find it hard to understand the difference," She started out quietly. He made no attempt to ask her what she meant. He didn't need to. "Sometimes… I wonder what the difference is between these… dreams, nightmares… and reality. It's the same thing. I don't change in my dreams… I'm still the same cold-blooded killer." Her voice cracked toward the end, but she didn't care. He'd seen her like this before, and she knew he didn't judge her for it. "For once… I wish I could have one of those dreams… those dreams where I can just… live. Every time I have a nightmare, I want nothing more than to wake up. But when I do… I see that nothing's changed, and suddenly I'm dreaming again. Does that make sense?"

There's a silence in the room and for a moment, she's afraid she's lost him. "When I came out from the ice," His voice brings more comfort to her then she thinks he realizes. "I had a hard time forgetting my past. It was almost as if I was still living in that time. It's all I ever knew, all I had ever been around. And when… and when I became Captain America, my life was completely turned upside down."

She knows most of his background, and it doesn't bring a pleasant feeling to her heart. They _used him_ like he was some sort of prize they had won, showing him off everywhere they went. She understands that feeling of being used by others – she understands much too well.

"But… when S.H.E.I.L.D recruited me… when I became an Avenger, it finally brought meaning to my life." He tugged on her hip until she was facing him. It's at this moment she realized how much she _loves_ being so close to him. "I'm not trying to say that I completely know what you went through, but Nat…" If it's even possible, he drew her closer until she had to wrap her arms around his neck so that they wouldn't be crushed between them. "you're not that same girl anymore. You're not Natalia Romanova."

Hearing the name verbalized caused her to flinch, too many agonizing resurfacing.

"S.H.E.I.L.D took you in, Fury took you in. And he made you the woman you are right now. Natasha, you save people… that's what you do. That's what the Avengers are here for. And this… this I know from personal experience… you can't let your past take control of you. You can't stay living in it forever."

It was stupid. It was so incredibly stupid when her heart leaped in her chest, bringing not pain, but something much better. _So much better_.

"Tonight is different, though." She whispered. She found it adorable when confusion washed over his perfect features and it almost brought a smile to her face. Almost. "I know it's been months already… but… I still wonder why he didn't let me go with him."

He immediately recognized who she's referring to; she can tell by the way the hand on her hip gripped it tighter, how his body tensed, and when he pressed his forehead to hers.

"That was the first time I had willingly opened up to anyone, Steve. And he shut me down." She stared straight into his eyes as she asked the question, "Why?"

He didn't respond, instead, he buried her face into the crook of his neck. She found it comfortable and instantly relaxed despite her troubled mind.

"Why didn't he let me in? I told him! I told him things I never tell anybody… and he… and he just tossed me aside like I was nothing! A-am I that bad? Am I that worthless that I can't even find someone to love me?"

"Natasha, please don't say that. Don't say that about yourself."

"Why not? It's true."

"No, it is not," He firmly grasped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Listen to me, Natasha. Your past does not define you. It's what you decide to do in your present and for your future, that mark you as a person. You can either decide to let your past control you or you can make a different life for yourself. And that's exactly what you've done." His hand suddenly moved to her cheek and she felt herself lean into his touch. "And if someone is going to judge you for who you are and not except you as a person, then they don't deserve your love."

"And who deserves my love, Steve?"

He's quiet for a moment, and it's clear he's refraining from saying something. "Someone who sees the beauty in you, and knows you for who you truly are."

"A monster."

"Natasha Romanoff."

She didn't need him to explain his response; she already understood what he meant. Natalia Romanova isn't the woman he sees, but instead, Natasha Romanoff. Natalia Romanova was an orphaned girl. Natalia Romanova was torn down and built up as a living lethal weapon, used by the KGB and Red Room. Natalia Romanova died when she was recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D.

Natasha Romanoff was born when she joined Fury. Natasha Romanoff was sculpted into becoming something better than what she previously was used for. Natasha Romanoff was a lifesaver, not a murder. Natasha Romanoff was a member of the Avengers – she was a part of this crazy, super powered, enhanced family. Natasha Romanoff deserved love in so many ways, it was impossible to count.

At least that's what he had been telling her over the past few months of their unspoken "friendship". The thought sent a sensational feeling through her.

"I've had a lot of relationships before." She murmured, pressing her head to his chest, not wanting to tell this to him while staring into his eyes. "I'm not proud of it. But this time… I thought… I thought we had something in common… I thought he could understand where I was coming from, but…"

She can't seem to finish her line of thought.

"Banner's missing out on the best opportunity of his life." The words caused a blush – something highly unusual for her – to spread across her cheeks. And her heart made that stupid leap in her chest, yet again. "I'm here, Nat. And I'm not going anywhere."

The words washed over her and her entire body finally fully relaxed into his touch. It was only then that she realized how heavy her eyelids were and what a strenuous task it was to keep them open. Her breathing flattened out as she snaked her arms around his torso, starting to doze off.

"Go to sleep, Nat." His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke quietly. "I'll be here when you wake up."

 **/**

When she first reached out her hand, she expected to find a warm body pressed against her. She had a heart attack when she felt nothing but the silk sheets. Her body sprang up from the bed as she cast frantic glances around the room, her mind still in a haze. Horror washed over her when she still didn't see him. Her arms folded over her knees as she buried her face into her body.

Why did she care so much if he left? He was probably sick and tired of having to put her to sleep, and after last night, he most likely thought she was pathetic. It wasn't that she was still hung up on Bruce, but it was more of an awful mixture of pain and curiosity – wonders of why he didn't give them a chance and the bitterness that followed. Surely no one would want to be around someone like that.

"Nat, are you okay?"

Her head shot up in a millisecond. There he stood – in all his glory and honor – holding a tray with a stack of pancakes. She had never been so incredibly pleased to see him in her entire time of knowing him. He approached her cautiously, with that adorably flustered look on his face. They never broke eye contact as he placed the tray down on the night table. He didn't get a chance to do anything else before her arms were locked around his neck.

"You bastard!" She hissed, drawing him ever closer. "You said you'd be here when I woke up!"

"I…I'm sorry," His words were a bit tentative, but his arms didn't hesitate to wrap around her. "But I figured you'd be hungry when you woke up."

She swallowed thickly and hugged him for how long – she didn't know. But she didn't let go until her breathing evened and they were sitting on the bed. Then she looked at the clock and saw it was already ten in the morning; she knew he was an early riser which could have explained why he wasn't in bed with her. But she still couldn't understand why she had lost her mind when she woke up. She reasoned with herself that he was her friend, her partner, and a trusted colleague and nothing more… nothing more.

She wasn't so sure at this point. And that frightened her. She had opened herself up to Bruce and he had completely tossed her aside. She wasn't ready for that to happen again. But as she gazed into those incredible blue eyes of his, her mind was convinced that he wasn't going anywhere. He'd been here – by her side – this whole entire time and not once had he shown any interest in leaving her.

"I made you pancakes…" His eyes roamed her body before he met stare once more. "You are hungry, right?"

A smile spread across her face, and it was in that moment she knew everything was going to be okay. She didn't know how or what was going to happen, but as long as he was there – she would be alright. "Yeah," She murmured, leaning closer to him until they were centimeters apart. She could see his cheeks brighten and it made her smile even more. "I'm starving."

And as their lips collided, she was certain nothing in the entire world could compare to this moment. And now she was positive that _this_ – _he_ – was what she wanted.


End file.
